


The Art of Pining - Perfected Over 6000 Years

by C4t1l1n4



Category: Good Omens (TV), Good Omens - Neil Gaiman & Terry Pratchett
Genre: 5+1 Things, Angst, Angst with a Happy Ending, Crowley Was Raphael Before Falling (Good Omens), Enemies to Friends to Lovers, Fluff, Love Confessions, M/M, Mutual Pining, Pining
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-03-17
Updated: 2020-03-17
Packaged: 2021-02-23 06:55:16
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,773
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23174137
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/C4t1l1n4/pseuds/C4t1l1n4
Summary: 5 times Crowley and Aziraphale mutually pinned over each other and the 1 time they didn’t have to"they're way too good for me and will never fall in love with me and I could never deserve it if they did"
Relationships: Aziraphale/Crowley (Good Omens)
Comments: 2
Kudos: 57
Collections: Fandom Trumps Hate 2020





	The Art of Pining - Perfected Over 6000 Years

**Author's Note:**

  * For [lincyclopedia](https://archiveofourown.org/users/lincyclopedia/gifts).



> Pining fic - Prepare yourself for a whole lot of angst with fluff at the end. I went into this with the prompt in mind and this is the result. It didn’t quite turn out as I meant it too, but hopefully, you enjoy it anyway!
> 
> Thanks again asideofourown for betaing

#### 1\. Heaven

Raphael was a busy angel. He had stars to make, questions to ask and galaxies to compose. He ranked fairly high up in the order of angels, so it wasn’t hard for him to find free time. But he was also easily distracted. Work that should’ve taken a day or two lasted for weeks on end because he got side-tracked one thing or another. 

Observing humans was a favorite; many other angels didn’t share the same enthusiasm, but he had so many questions that he just couldn’t stay away. Spending time with the Morningstar was the second. If he was unaccounted for, a lot of the time, Morningstar was unaccounted for as well. Neither of them fancied all the official angel business they needed to attend for being one of her favorites. But if he wasn’t looking curiously down at the humans or with the Morningstar, then he was actually working, combining bits and pieces of one gas or another, experimenting with how each different star would turn out. 

No one comes to bother Raphael when he’s working. It’s a very dangerous and unstable work environment - lab safety hadn’t been invented yet - so it was best to just leave him to it. One particular angel, one who was fairly new and wouldn’t be needed for a time yet, didn’t seem to get the memo. Aziraphale was quite a curious angel, loyal to a fault, but ready and excited to explore. He stumbled upon Raphael observing the humans and thought that was a rather swell idea - this was not punished because it would come in handy later - and eventually took quite a liking to the archangel. Of course, when asking about him, he either got laughed off or ushered away. 

“Silly young angel,” they would say, “No one bothers Raphael. He has important work to do, designing space and constructing the stars.”

And they’d leave it at that, no matter how much he asked, until it got to the point that other angels ignored him or avoided him to get away from all his questions about the archangel. He did not get discouraged, angels are not designed to get discouraged, and set about finding Raphael himself. He eventually stumbled across a stairway which led away from their cloudy home into a spot in the sky, where active ingredients lay floating around, ready to be used.

The young angel, drawn to the sparkling reds and blues and oranges and greens, poked and prodded at little bits of this and that until-

“Hey! Watch out!” The archangel darted over and sheltered both of them with his six magnificent wings, right as the star exploded into existence. 

They both stood there, clutched tightly in each other’s arms, eyes squeezed shut until everything cleared down. They slowly untangled from each other and Raphael turned to face the star, burning brightly in the workshop instead of out in space. Placing himself between the new star and Aziraphale, he used his powers to gently guide out into space. 

Aziraphale was absolutely awestruck with the archangel as he worked, his heart melting and eyes watering his joy at the feat this angel was. _He is absolutely lovely._ Aziraphale thought. He was a creation of God herself, a work so mighty and good. He created and loved and- _he’s way out of my league._ Aziraphale was but a Principality, not too popular and not assigned a job yet. This high ranking archangel, well, he spent way too much time with the Morningstar to bother with Aziraphale anyway.

“Are you okay?” Raphael twirled around when he was finished, sweat dripping, and auburn locks in a tangled panic haloing his head. “You could’ve been injured.”

Raphael’s eyes scanned over Aziraphale’s body, and he suddenly forgets how to speak. “Ah… well, uh. I-uh. Fine. I’m fine,” he managed to stutter out and the archangel sags in relief. 

“Number one rule of star-making: the ingredients get assembled in space, not in the workshop. Can’t have explosions this close, who knows how any of it will react,” Raphael informed as he looks back out to where the new star burns brightly among the rest. “But it is a really nice combination.” He turned back to Aziraphale, who flushed red. “Good job.”

It’s a cruel sense of irony that has Raphael falling out of Heaven shortly after Aziraphale fell in love with him.

#### 2\. Garden of Eden

It’s quite unfortunate that after the big battle in Heaven and all the angels, now demons, were cast down it was decided that everyone’s memory be erased. There was a general idea of what happened, but not names or faces or relationships or anything like that. It certainly does erase any progress Aziraphale had made coming to terms with his feelings. But, he wouldn’t remember it anyway. There’s no room for feelings to come into play when there are battles to be won. The only thing that mattered to Aziraphale now was that he was finally assigned a position. He was proudly dubbed Guardian of the Eastern Gate. 

It was a dreadful day when Eve ate that apple, and Adam too, but there was nothing to do about it now. Instead, he offered them his flaming sword and ushered them out of the Garden advising them not to return. He took his spot back on top of the wall, watching the humans go when he was suddenly joined by a demon, slithering up next to him. 

“Well, that went down like a lead balloon.” The demon drawled, and Aziraphale startled. 

They exchanged conversation and Aziraphale admitted that he had lost his sword and the demon seemed impressed. Aziraphale wasn’t sure that was a compliment. 

The demon, Crawly, wasn’t sure he’d quite come across another angel like this. All the angels he could remember were stuck up and pompous and had thrown him out because he was too nosy... and something to do with Lucifer, who doesn’t talk to him anymore. But this angel seemed curious and helpful and even a little terrified - he could smell it from a mile away - and that was intriguing. 

Crawly didn’t remember much from before, he could infer enough from the 6 wings on his back - he only dared show 2 at a time - but he entertained the idea that he had a cute little assistant who helped him build stars. He even remembers having to save said cute assistant from an explosion once, and wonders if this Principality next to him was the one. Something about him is… familiar. Even if that was the case, Crawly firmly reminded himself that he doesn’t think about before, he was a demon now. Angels and demons don’t become friends. 

But looking at the angel next to him, who was worrying relentlessly about the humans as they trudged through the endless dunes of sand, he kind of wished they did.

#### 3\. St. James Park

Crawly goes by Crowley now, he and Aziraphale made an arrangement with a capital ‘A’, and they might even be becoming friends. But Crowley wants insurance. Hell was still, well, hellbent on getting revenge, even after all these years, and Crowley was worried about what happens when they do. It wasn’t like he was the most popular down there, he could hear the whispers about how he’s ‘gone native’ for being on earth all these years, but no one else was willing to stay topside, so they let him be, as long as he could fill up enough reports about all the tempting he’s been doing. 

So he meets with Aziraphale in St. James Park, and hands him the note and doesn’t get the response he wants.

“Absolutely not.” Aziraphale hissed back, terrified and near tears. Was Crowley okay? Why would he want something so deadly and lethal to himself? “That’s suicide!” He exclaims and glances over at Crowley, who just looks annoyed. How could someone so smart be so dumb? Aziraphale may admire Crowley, think him brave and be madly in love with him - something that is still taking some getting used to - but he wasn’t stupid. 

Well, maybe he was a little stupid because he bites out a snide remark about ‘Fraternising’, and huffed off, not knowing he won’t see Crowley again for a very, very long time. It’s no problem, of course, he and Crowley have gone extended periods of time without seeing each other, but since the Arrangement, well, they’ve definitely started seeing each other more often. But right now, Aziraphale was too distraught, full of rage, and devastated to think clearly. 

As Crowley watched Aziraphale walk away, his anger melts and it’s replaced with something else. Something much worse. They were getting along so well, and come on! Surely his desire to protect himself wasn’t that disgusting. Now, all it seems he could think about was his broken heart and how much he wanted a nap.

#### 4\. You Go Too Fast

Aziraphale walked over to the Bently with a heavy heart. He may not agree with Crowley’s need for Holy Water, whatever that need might be, but he agreed with thievery less. There was no reason for Crowley to risk something so dangerous when Aziraphale could just hand it to him. So he appeared in Crowley’s car and made it clear that he still felt strongly this couldn’t end well, but handed over the tartan flask anyway. 

He tensed as Crowley took it with reverent awe and cringed when he offered him a ride. “Anywhere you want to go.”

But Aziraphale wanted to go home and he wanted to get away so he could erase the imagery of Crowley and the Holy Water together as quickly as possible. He’s too afraid Crowley will kill himself, what else could “insurance” mean? Is Aziraphale that unbearable? How is Aziraphale supposed to respond to flirting at a time like this? How dare he anyway? Aziraphale just handed him something he could use to kill himself - permanently - and Crowley treated it like it was nothing. Aziraphale could cry, would cry, as soon as he got out of here because if Crowley died, it’s his fault. 

And he seemed to make a lot of bad choices lately because he muttered “You go too fast for me, Crowley,” and miracled himself back to his bookshop, leaving a shocked Crowley clutching the thermos of death juice in one hand, and the steering wheel in the other.

#### 5\. Armageddon

The bookshop burned. 

And it burned.  
And it burned.  
And it burned. 

And Crowley almost burned with it. 

He was on the floor, on his back because he was knocked down by one of the human’s water hoses and he couldn’t be bothered to get back up.

Aziraphale was gone. 

They had been together, up here on earth together, shared so many experiences together, so what was the point without him? 

Crowley hadn’t even worked up the nerve to tell him how he felt. He looked and loved and lost. And he was a coward. He had given himself a couple of decades to recuperate from the “you go too fast for me’ incident, because those words still stung, but then he had been handed a basket with a crying child and everything had flown out the window. And then words were exchanged in those final days that neither of them meant, but it was too late now. Crowley sat on his ass, pining for too long, because how could Aziraphale want him, how could he even consider that idea, and never did anything. Any flirting went straight over the angel’s head anyway, or maybe it was just ignored. 

Crowley was laying on the bookshop floor, but he forced himself to move and he grabbed the closest book as a keepsake and walked out the front door. 

Because Aziraphale is dead. 

His bookshop is burning, and everything they worked for is over. 

It was time to get drunk.

#### +1 Post-Apocalypse (now)

They did it. 

Aziraphale’s bookshop burned, and so did Crowley’s Bentley, but Adam set everything right. And hopefully, their little switcheroo stunt will keep their respective head offices off their backs for a very long time. 

They dine at the Ritz - as requested, so many years ago - and clink glasses together and toast to the world they didn’t really do that much to save but took all the blame for and smiled. 

Because they were alive. 

And Crowley looks over and stares at Aziraphale who is too busy eating to notice and he smiles softly and is glad that Aziraphale isn’t dead. But Crowley is smart enough to realize he’s going to have nightmares about that for a very long time. He glances down into his glass just in time for Aziraphale to look over, and draw the sight of him, alive and well. He takes in Crowley’s flaming red hair and black clothing, contrasted by the white decor of the restaurant, and melts. His brain supplies that Crowley looks good surrounded by white, and Aziraphale ignores anything that could be implying.

All their pining comes to a head when they decide to take a picnic, another idea suggested by Aziraphale that Crowley devotes himself wholeheartedly too. His angel always did have good ideas. Though he supposes it’s not quite fair to call him ‘his’ angel if they aren’t an item yet, but Crowley isn’t quite sure that’ll ever happen, so he takes what he can get. 

Regardless, he packs plenty of Aziraphale’s favorite foods and all of his own favorite wines and they waltz up the hill from where Crowley parked and settle on the tartan blanket tucked under Aziraphale’s arm. It’s only about halfway through, when they’re stuffed from eating and Crowley is seconds away from suggesting they get as outrageously drunk as they normally do, he realizes this is a lot more romantic than he realized. 

The bottle slips from his hand halfway up to his mouth and he cringes as the red liquid clashes with the tan and blue of the blanket, staining the fabric. Crowley is still frozen, his brain processing like an old computer, the pinwheel spinning and spinning as he puts the pieces together and Aziraphale miracles away the stain. 

“Is this a date?” Crowley splutters out, harsher than he intends, but he’s still waiting for his brain to unstick and the rest of his body to catch up to what’s happening right in front of him. 

Aziraphale looks sheepish, but as Crowley gathers the bits of his broken mind, and scrambles to shove his sunglasses back over his eyes, he notices the tiny bit of absolute fear lingering in those ocean eyes. “It can be, if that’s something you’d be interested in,” Aziraphale offers timidly. Crowley’s mind breaks once again because he never thought he’d get this far, but Aziraphale takes his mouth hanging open and lack of a response as something worse. “It’s fine if you don’t though.” His smile falters and his gaze drops to the ground. “It was silly of me to suggest otherwise.”

Those words spring Crowley into action so quick as his mind screams: _Don’t fuck it up now, idiot!_

“No, no. That’s not at all what I meant, Angel. I’d love for this to be a date. I just got a little caught off guard, because...” Crowley swallows nervously as if he says it out loud, it’ll make the angel change his mind. “I didn’t think you’d want a demon like me.” It comes out, no more than a whisper and Crowley’s glad his sunglasses are covering the raw emotion in his eyes. 

Aziraphale softens and draws him into his arms and Crowley clutches at the fabric of Aziraphale’s jacket harder than he’ll ever admit. Somewhere in the process, Crowley’s sunglasses are knocked off his face, so he resorts to hiding his face in Aziraphale’s shoulder instead. Aziraphale runs a soothing hand through locks of fiery auburn and presses a kiss to the top of Crowley’s head. 

“I don’t deserve you,” comes a muffled confession, and Aziraphale pauses his petting. 

“Yes, my dear,” he says, resuming the soothing action. “You deserve better.” 

Crowley jerks his head up, raw emotion pouring from seas of molten gold, spilling right into the cracks of Aziraphale’s heart. “Don’t you dare allude that anyone else would be better for me than you,” he says, and behind the thundering anger, is a just as fierce feeling of love, that radiates off the demon in such a devout and overwhelming way, it brings tears to Aziraphale’s eyes. 

And, well, if they share their first kiss, tear-stained in all its glory, as the sun sets, who am I to tell?

**Author's Note:**

> I now realize that there are some continuity errors about when humans happened between the first two parts but shhhhhh….


End file.
